Inside the The Mind of:
John M. Rinaldi
DEDICATION.
For Kelly.
Anthony,
My Biggest Dream.
Rowan,
My Sweetest Dream.
Mom,
Eileen,
Steve.
TY.
Teri Shields.
CONTENTS
DEDICATION.
INTRODUCTION.
CHAPTER 1. Forrest Once Said.
CHAPTER 2. 12/14/12 - BEFORE.
CHAPTER 3. 12/14/12 - DURING.
CHAPTER 4. 12/14/12 - AFTER.
CHAPTER 5. HEROES.
CHAPTER 6. VILLAINS.
CHAPTER 7. REGIS UNIVERSITY.
CHAPTER 8. STATE FARM.
CHAPTER 9. 911.
CHAPTER 10. WELLS FARGO.
CHAPTER 11. PTSD.
CHAPTER 12. BROOKE SHIELDS.
CHAPTER 13. 6TH PRECINCT.
CHAPTER 14. ADA ANGELICA GREGORY.
CHAPTER 15. ABUSE OF POWER.
CHAPTER 16. RYKERS.
CHAPTER 17. DR. PHIL.
CHAPTER 18. PROGRESSIVE.
CHAPTER 19. LEARNING TO CRAWL.
CHAPTER 20. LEARNING TO WALK.
CHAPTER 21. LEARNING TO RUN.
CHAPTER 22. FAMILY.
CHAPTER 23. HOPES.
CHAPTER 24. DREAMS.
CHAPTER 25. KELLY.
CHAPTER 26. HALLE BERRY + JOANNE BARRON'S MEISNER.
CHAPTER 27. PHILANTHROPY.
CHAPTER 28. PTSD.
CHAPTER 29. ANTHONY.
CHAPTER 30. NEWTOWN, CT.
CHAPTER 31. ROWAN.
CHAPTER 32. SANDY HOOK CENTER.
CHAPTER 33. BRAIN INJURY.
CHAPTER 34. FALSELY ACCUSED.
CHAPTER 35. WRONGFUL IMPRISONMENT.
CHAPTER 36. MADONNA.
CHAPTER 37. ABUSE OF POWER PT. 2.
CHAPTER 38. KELLY PT. 2.
CHAPTER 39. LAST WORDS.
CHAPTER 40. ANTHONY PT. 2.
CHAPTER 41. I CAME BETWEEN HER + HER CALVINS.
CHAPTER 42. RESURRECTION.
CHAPTER 43. SANDY HOOK CENTER.
CHAPTER 44. SANDY HOOK MEMORIAL.
CHAPTER 45. TRAUMA/ PTSD.
CHAPTER 46. SYRIAN REFUGEES.
CHAPTER 47. DENTAL CLINIC.
CHAPTER 48. KELLY + FRANK.
CHAPTER 49. EAST HAMPTON.
CHAPTER 50. PAYING IT FORWARD.
CHAPTER 51. SCRIPT.
CHAPTER 52. LAKE CUOMO.
CHAPTER 23. HOPES.
CHAPTER 24. DREAMS.
CHAPTER 25. KELLY.
CHAPTER 26. HALLE BERRY + JOANNE BARRON'S MEISNER.
CHAPTER 27. PHILANTHROPY.
CHAPTER 28. PTSD.
CHAPTER 29. ANTHONY.
CHAPTER 30. NEWTOWN, CT.
CHAPTER 31. ROWAN.
CHAPTER 32. SANDY HOOK CENTER.
CHAPTER 33. BRAIN INJURY.
CHAPTER 34. FALSELY ACCUSED.
CHAPTER 35. WRONGFUL IMPRISONMENT.
CHAPTER 36. MADONNA.
CHAPTER 37. ABUSE OF POWER PT. 2.
CHAPTER 38. KELLY PT. 2.
CHAPTER 39. LAST WORDS.
CHAPTER 40. ANTHONY PT. 2.
CHAPTER 41. I CAME BETWEEN HER + HER CALVINS.
CHAPTER 42. RESURRECTION.
CHAPTER 43. SANDY HOOK CENTER.
CHAPTER 44. SANDY HOOK MEMORIAL.
CHAPTER 45. TRAUMA/ PTSD.
CHAPTER 46. SYRIAN REFUGEES.
CHAPTER 47. DENTAL CLINIC.
CHAPTER 48. KELLY + FRANK.
CHAPTER 49. EAST HAMPTON.
CHAPTER 50. PAYING IT FORWARD.
CHAPTER 51. SCRIPT.
CHAPTER 52. LAKE CUOMO.
CONCLUSION.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
NOTES.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.
CREDITS.
COPYRIGHT.
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER.
INTRODUCTION.
If you were to die today, what would you want to be remember for? What would be your legacy?
Mine is simple. I am a child advocate.
My entire adult life has been a life of service. Sure, I would love to have been like the majority of people who do not personalize life's obstacles but I do. And I do so because in every sense of the word, I never had a choice not to. Early in my life, I had been exposed to things that made it virtually impossible to stay on my pre-ordained path. That derailment redirected my path and forced me off course that forced me to recalculate as I went along.
Imagine that you had to go to the market. It's safe to say that upon your first approach, you would find your way to said market to the best of your ability. As you progress, you became more familiar with your surroundings to then make an educated assessment to find the best possible route. Perceptions are similar to routes- we learn the safest means to proceed. We then become predisposed with familiarity. But, if we were to face a disturbance, we then adjust accordingly. If the disturbance is great enough, we could become derailed and if so we
I've tried to write this countless of times and I probably should anticipate I'll stop and start many moe times to come. You see, it's
Some of the possible signs and symptoms of CTE may include:
Other suspected symptoms may include:
- Difficulty thinking (cognitive impairment)
- Impulsive behavior.
- Depression or apathy.
- Short-term memory loss.
- Difficulty planning and carrying out tasks (executive function)
- Emotional instability.
- Substance abuse.
- Suicidal thoughts or behavior.
- Irritability
- Aggression
- Speech and language difficulties
- Motor impairment, such as difficulty walking, tremor, loss of muscle movement, weakness or rigidity
- Trouble swallowing (dysphagia)
- Vision and focusing problems
- Trouble with sense of smell (olfactory abnormalities)
- Dementia
As I sit in my living room chair and am watching LIVE with Kelly & Ryan, Kelly Ripa mentions a sone of my all time favorite songs, Heathens by Twenty One Pilots. I too love the song and it quickly became my 2016 anthem. I quickly scramble with my iPhone and google the song on YouTube. I don't know why the name of YouTube makes me pause, but it does. Is it Y O U or Y O O.. I mean it makes sense to type in Y O U, but could it be that obvious? After all I am not a millennial and I'm not as fluent in today's tech as I probably should be. Don't even ask me about Snapchat! I Have No Idea About Snapchat! Although, I had made a mean looking picture of me as 'Batman' for Anthony! I quickly find 'Heathens' on YouTube and I hit some button that looks like a tv outline in the top red border of my YOUTube Ap. Ryan and Kelly are soon replaced by the video for Heathens on screen. I have a Samsung SmartTV, and although I don't feel that 'Smart,' I still am able to use the 'Airplay' to stream the video and it begins playing on my 52" flatscreen. Honestly, I have no idea if 'Airplay' is what got it to 'Stream' to my television but, I do feel good about this new found ability even though it's probably has been a feature for years. I am NOT a millennial.
The video plays, and I quickly begin to self-soothe as the lyrics start to blend into me.. and I slightly believe that the cool 'Alternative Rock' band is actually speaking 'for' me. I know that they are not. I'm not, of course, delusional although many would like me to be to fit their absurd narrative.
Twenty-One Pilots
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
Welcome to the room of people
Who have rooms of people that they loved one day
Docked away
Just because we check the guns at the door
Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades
You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you
You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you
You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
We don't deal with outsiders very well
They say newcomers have a certain smell
You have trust issues, not to mention
They say they can smell your intentions
You're loving on the freakshow sitting next to you
You'll have some weird people sitting next to you
You'll think "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget
(Watch it, watch it)
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
(Watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know
(Watch it)
Please all my friends are heathens, take it slow
(Watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed
(It's blasphemy)
I tried to warn you just to stay away
(Away)
And now they're outside ready to bust
(To bust)
It looks like you might be one of us
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
Welcome to the room of people
Who have rooms of people that they loved one day
Docked away
Just because we check the guns at the door
Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades
You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you
You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you
You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
We don't deal with outsiders very well
They say newcomers have a certain smell
You have trust issues, not to mention
They say they can smell your intentions
You're loving on the freakshow sitting next to you
You'll have some weird people sitting next to you
You'll think "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"
But after all I've said, please don't forget
(Watch it, watch it)
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Please don't make any sudden moves
You don't know the half of the abuse
All my friends are heathens, take it slow
(Watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know
(Watch it)
Please all my friends are heathens, take it slow
(Watch it)
Wait for them to ask you who you know
Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed
(It's blasphemy)
I tried to warn you just to stay away
(Away)
And now they're outside ready to bust
(To bust)
It looks like you might be one of us
'You don't know the half of the abuse'
* For the record, I will be using ' instead of " because I am me.. and I like it better. I also will say four years as 4years, and will do probably several things that would make any real author cringe. But, trust me I do know whom these real authors are. In fact, they are all transcribed around the second floor of my beach house. The second floor actually is expanded into a walk way around the perimeter in the shame of a 'U.' So, there you have it.
These lyrics from 'Heathens' always makes me sad because it is me to a 't.' If you hadn't been abused- and thank god if you hadn't, then you Don't Know the Half of it... And to understand abuse or any other affliction one needs empathy.
Empathy is something that many people simply do not have. Although, they'd be quite pained to admit not having it, I believe they'd also defend having it quite rigorously. I say this based on experience- if you haven't had the experience, you couldn't possibly understand. What's even worse is when an adult who cannot empathize actually ridicules you because of it- trust me it happens. Take Newtown, CT. On the 14 of December 2012, a small village within Newtown, Connecticut called Sandy Hook suffered the worst assault on children the United Sates has ever seen. A lone mentally challenged- madman on all accounts, entered the elementary school in Sandy Hook and began shooting at 9:34 and by 9:40 20 six and seven year old children were shot multiple times in the head and upper torso, along with 6 adults. One would think a tragedy like Sandy Hook that had such grave casualties would bring everyone together. But, it isn't. People without empathy cannot believe such travesties exist so you have 'Truthers' who condemns those directly and indirectly involved- or in their case 'allegedly' involved. You also have people who just cannot be bothered and lash out at anyone who brings whatever tragedy to their front door. It's as if they can keep it out of their consciousness then it doesn't exist.
If only I could live in ignorance is bliss. If only....
em·pa·thy
ˈempəTHē/
noun
t. the ability to understand and share the feelings of another.
I'd love to live in ignorant bliss- really I would... I had always wanted to be a teacher. I'm very paternal, and I like to make sure everyone is safe, and that they are properly skilled. However, if in addition to not having empathy, I was also self centered, I'd then have become a builder/contractor/architect. But, alas I am not. So, instead of having 12 children of my own, and having multiple homes, multiple cars and always after the latest- the most.. I am humbled into a life of philanthropy.
To say I'm not like most people would be an understatement. Looking back, I would love to be like most people who have no empathy, and see life's tragedies as 'not, my problem.' And who knows, if I hadn't had such a horrific childhood, maybe I too could live my life with such luxury. But, unfortunately I don't and it certainly wasn't by any choice of my own. If I hadn't chosen my path, I fear I too would've been a casualty. In fact, most people who have experienced as I have in that large a scale hadn't made it through and are casualties. I have two siblings.. no. Now, I have three siblings dead as a result of such tragedy. The most recent death is Kelly. Kelly's death is my fault and I'm almost certain it will be my undoing. It's all because I had empathy..
I'm hesitant to share because I had already been made fun of in public as a result of my being abused, and having lost siblings.. I have even made fun of, in court for having a disability. It's true. We all remember '45' for making fun of a New York Times reporter who suffers from a chronic physical condition, and mocked his movements in a campaign speaking engagement. Right?! Well, I had my day in court and a witness actually mocked my abuse, the loss of my siblings, and even my efforts to not be defined by my adversities and choosing a life of service. To be honest, it wasn't a day in court as it had become a 4 day mockery of justice. This person has no empathy and as a result demonstrated so boldly what my supposed legal team called her as sociopathic.
so·ci·o·path
ˈsōsēōˌpaTH/
noun
- a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behavior and a lack of conscience.
But who knows- actually, who really cares. I certainly do not. I do however care about societal ills that are plaguing our children. I do care about those abused, I do care about the loss of life after a natural disaster, I do care about the transgender guy sleeping in the doorway just two doors down from Sarah Jessica Parker, I do care about gun violence, I do care about mass shootings, I do care about school shootings, I do care that our children are not derailed and are able to live their best life imagined, and I do care about justice.
Where do I fit into all of this? Honestly, I do not know. It hasn't really been a concern as I have always had more than my share and more than enough.
By all accounts, my life should've have ended on 26 September 1986. And in many ways it had because who I would become had no resemblance on who I was. My childhood was actually petty good, or I often tell myself. It's what I told Dr. Phil on an episode he had manipulated. Well, it was until I was about 12 when an adult neighbor decided to make me his playdate. Things had changed after that, and I hate to admit things were pretty much a blur after that.
This has been a very difficult task to start. It'd probably best serve all if I just stuck to the guidelines and marked up an outline and took notes.. but it's really important that when you read this you don't find a carefully crafted manipulated manuscript. so, I will begin and begin and begin again until I find the right words to say. So, please bare with me.
I don't want this to be a memoir or anything close to a likeness of one. It's also my objective to make sure that you're not sidelined by my tortured past and miss the entire point of this writing. I'd like it to be a tell all instruction manual of sorts to help stop the madness.
#STOPGunSchoolViolence
#STOPBullying
This is not a memoir, and despite all that you may or may not have heard this is about the safety of our kids. There may be a lot of detail and
Let me be the first to tell you. This not a memoir. And although, I may be revealing myself in great and at times the contents may appear as an outline of sorts it's not about me. In fact nothing is. I'm simply sharing with you things I had learned and the reasoning behind it with the hopes to get back to whats important- our kid's safety and their well-being. Sure, there are a lot of things equally important but I've learned that in order to make a dent into anything, you must use tunnel vision of sorts. You also need a lot of patience and understanding which at times seems awfully difficult. What's important to me, may not be as important to you. It's also the same that each person has a certain history behind their behaviors and that too must be acknowledged. Take me for example. I am a child advocate because of a sordid past. It was also of no choice of mine....
In many ways, we cannot control what happens to us It is a story of sorts, but mainly it's to reestablish ourselves with some humanity, and a little dignity in the process.
'Forrest once said that nothin’ could kill us, and we could never die. Back then I actually believed it, hell I know Forrest did, Because no matter what this world flung at him, he seemed to be able to just stand up, and keep on going. Gettin’ a little more bent, a little more twisted each time. But nobody leaves this world alive.’
Let me be the first to tell you. This not a memoir. And although, I may be revealing myself in great and at times the contents may appear as an outline of sorts it's not about me. In fact nothing is. I'm simply sharing with you things I had learned and the reasoning behind it with the hopes to get back to whats important- our kid's safety and their well-being. Sure, there are a lot of things equally important but I've learned that in order to make a dent into anything, you must use tunnel vision of sorts. You also need a lot of patience and understanding which at times seems awfully difficult. What's important to me, may not be as important to you. It's also the same that each person has a certain history behind their behaviors and that too must be acknowledged. Take me for example. I am a child advocate because of a sordid past. It was also of no choice of mine....
In many ways, we cannot control what happens to us It is a story of sorts, but mainly it's to reestablish ourselves with some humanity, and a little dignity in the process.
'Forrest once said that nothin’ could kill us, and we could never die. Back then I actually believed it, hell I know Forrest did, Because no matter what this world flung at him, he seemed to be able to just stand up, and keep on going. Gettin’ a little more bent, a little more twisted each time. But nobody leaves this world alive.’
LAWLESS.
I am this Tom Hardy character, Forrest.
I probably have no business writing this.. at least, not like this- here and now. It’s actually quite ludicrous if you were to really think about it. And if I was to be honest, who’s to say I’d even be alive to see it through. It’s not that I have any plans of an imminent departure or am planning anything foolish. It is because I do not know how much time I have left. As a kid I was hit by a drunk driver, and I thought back some 30+ years ago, I was fully healed. But, I wasn't. In 2013, I was diagnosed with severe PTSD, and was told I had sustained what is called a TBI- a traumatic brain injury from damage to my frontal lobe.
Back when I was 18, concussions and brain injuries were not as understood as they are now. Even by today's standards the medical profession still does not have a full understanding. But, over the years they have made great progress. Unfortunately at the cost of to many lives. Like my buddy famed football player. xxx . He suffered xxxx, and then there's me. Who would've ever thought. And to be honest, if it wasn't for my baby brother, Danny I fear I still wouldn't have a clue to understanding my past... I still don't. All, I know now is I am somewhat afraid.
One may argue that I have certain predisposition to death. And yet, I'm still here. Life hasn’t always been kind to me, but no matter what life threw at me, I had always made good out of whatever circumstance I found myself in. So much so, that there have been many times that I actually thought myself to be indestructible. And having lived so fortuitously a charmed life also.
Back when I was 18, concussions and brain injuries were not as understood as they are now. Even by today's standards the medical profession still does not have a full understanding. But, over the years they have made great progress. Unfortunately at the cost of to many lives. Like my buddy famed football player. xxx . He suffered xxxx, and then there's me. Who would've ever thought. And to be honest, if it wasn't for my baby brother, Danny I fear I still wouldn't have a clue to understanding my past... I still don't. All, I know now is I am somewhat afraid.
One may argue that I have certain predisposition to death. And yet, I'm still here. Life hasn’t always been kind to me, but no matter what life threw at me, I had always made good out of whatever circumstance I found myself in. So much so, that there have been many times that I actually thought myself to be indestructible. And having lived so fortuitously a charmed life also.
Much like the character 'Forrest,' I too have lived a life of a certain carefree courage. A sense of certainty that can only come by experience., and overtime I had fallen and got up so many times that I proved my own indestructible theory. And I still have to laugh all these years later.. I'd fall and get up, I'd fall again and get back up, I'd fallen some more and again I still got up! They say adversity breeds character. Well, I have enough character! And never without cost. I
Simply put, I had broken my neck in two places after nearly lost my left leg after being hit by a drunk driver going at least 55 mph, as a pedestrian. Go ahead, laugh. It is funny. 'You kids laugh, it really hurts.' To say my recovery was a miracle would be an understatement and every time I'd see one of my three team doctors they would undoubtedly recall the events without fail as if they had to constantly reaffirm what still had made no sense. And still Dr. Heally, Dr. Seckel, and Dr. Friedberg will still believe that no one could sustain such a blow without it being fatal.
I'm happy to say, I am the ultimate survivor. Not only have I survived, but I’ve flourished where many do not. Or so I thought. Having felt not only invincible, but grateful, it was no wonder I'd use the borrowed time afforded me to become philanthropic. I've said throughout my adult life that I had learned at 17 what most people never come to understand thought all their lives- humanity. It sounds rather arrogant of me and as I write this down I feel compelled to again to always justify. I am rather quite humble as hard as it is to believe from my being so outspoken. But, do not ever misjudge humility with self preservation. More important than my philanthropy I am human.
Let's take the last sentence. 'More important than my philanthropy I am human..' At first glance I look at the sentence and it doesn't quite reflect the words that sounded off in my head. It does this quite often- (or better still... 'I do this quite often.') and many times I'd come back to something written and be horrified. I'd think to myself... I'd first self deprecate and then... 'let me try this again.
Take the last sentence for example. 'More important than my philanthropy I am human.' It doesn't quite make sense and it wasn't written with the same clarity that was in my head... which leads me to my next point.
- What is a cognitive disorder after a traumatic brain injury?
- A cognitive disorder is when your brain does not work correctly after a traumatic brain injury (TBI). A TBI often damages the front part of your brain, which is the part of the brain used for thinking and memory. You may have difficulty doing the same things that you did before the TBI.
What are the symptoms of a cognitive disorder?
- Mental:
- Trouble paying attention
- Trouble thinking clearly or doing 2 tasks at once
- Memory problems
- Decreased learning speed and ability
- Physical:
- Trouble sleeping or fatigue
- Changes in your appetite
- Poor balance
- Headaches or pain
- Problems with your ability to smell, taste, hear, or see
- Trouble staying warm or cool
- Emotional:
- Anxiety
- Depression
- Impatience
- Trouble controlling your feelings, actions, and behavior
Some individuals with TBI largely move away from the notion of "recovering" the pre-injury self. They reach a point, instead, when they view the losses/changes/deficits as "simple facts" or even "opportunities." For these people, terms such as "devastation" and "loss" get redefined and no longer are seen as applying to them. Their injury has let them see other possibilities for their lives than what they saw before injury. These possibilities may be just as (or more) satisfying to the person with TBI than what was "in store" for them prior to injury.
Posted on BrainLine July 25, 2008
But, this is not the worst of it! Brain Injuries are still hard to fully understand and those suffering TBI are more prone to Alzheimer's and or dementia... It is said that certain types of head injuries, however, may increase your risk of developing Alzheimer's disease or the dementias later in life. And that the greatest increase in future dementia risk seems to occur after a severe head injury that knows a person out for more than 24 hours- I was unconscious for three weeks.
- 'Certain types of head injuries, however, may increase your risk of developing Alzheimer's disease or other dementias later in life. The greatest increase in future dementia risk seems to occur after a severe head injury that knocks you out for more than 24 hours. A moderately serious head injury that causes unconsciousness for more than 30 minutes, but less than 24 hours, also seems to increase risk to a smaller extent.
- There's no evidence that a single mild head injury that doesn't knock you out, or that knocks you out for less than 30 minutes, increases your risk of dementia. However, repeated mild injuries may increase risk of future problems with thinking and reasoning.' The Mayo Clinic.
The way I see it, I don't have much time left... and the time I do have left I had tried to matter in a way that I'd be proud of the bored time I had talked about earlier.
I was born into a rather prominent New England family who rose from humble very humble beginnings into being one of New England’s largest trucking company families. We were garbage men, I’m proud to say. Now, I know what you are thinking, and yes. Yes, yes we were!
The week my father launched our business, Minuteman Trucking Co. in 1973, two of his Mack trucks were set ablaze along with a half dozen or so dumpsters. Without any foreseen upset, or even the makings of a bead of sweat, my father simply went out to inspect the torched equipment, looked them up and down, and made his way back into his office that smelled like a merging of oil, grease, and gas and proceeded to pick up his standby rotary phone and dialed.
The gentleman at the other end of the phone was- let’s say Uncle Sal. Sal was the sharp dressed man you thought of in that one particular song.. He was the classiest, smoothest, and kindest man you’d ever know whom all the young family children gravitated to. It’s no wonder why he was my favorite uncle. That and I’d often spend summers with them. Those were some of my happiest times! Later on as I grew older, I’d come to find out more and more details that made hime even more of a hero. There’s a lot to say about living with honor, and justice! To me this man was just my lovable Uncle Sal who always wore a custom fitting Hart Shaffner Marx and always smelled of a clean shave. And and and.. he always had a matchbox car in his left coat pocket for me! You see, my mom grew up with them too, and I followed in her footsteps. They loved her and me as if I was there own, and I loved them equally! Uncle Sal, also had a daughter who’s my second cousin and is just 6moths older than I. So, I guess, I lucked out- I know I lucked out!
As my dad made the call, he quickly was forwarded to my Uncle Sal. Soon after nothing more than a, ‘No I don’t know,’ and a ‘Yes, they were parked at the garage,’ and ‘No they didn’t. Yes…. Yes. Ok, Thank You.’ The call seemed to have ended just as quickly as it had begun as my dad abruptly hung up his black rotary phone…
A little while later, after my dad, the girls, my mom and I ate dinner, my dad grabbed me! In one fall swoop, he just scooped me up along side his coffee cup without spilling a drop. My dad said to my mother that we’d both be back shortly. I didn’t believe him because we took that ride many many times, but I guess I didn’t give it much thought.. I loved being with my dad. We were too… back shortly. We drove the three hours to the New York State line, and my dad exited the vehicle. I was half asleep when things ‘went-down’ but looking back I seem to recall being disappointed. I certainly wasn’t aware of the cash in the ‘paper-bag..’ I was anticipating a reward of some sorts on the way…. Not on the way back! You see, my dad was always doing things for us, and whenever we stopped we’d always get something.. and to tell you the truth.. I was probably a little bit spoiled. So, when we stopped and I didn’t get at least a milk-shake, I sulked.. It was short lived however because… yup. Within a few minutes my dad once again scooped me up from inside his GMC Jimmy and we were having banana splits at a Friendly’s restaurant..
From then on there we built our business up and bigger than all our competitors combined. At the beginning, when my dad quit his engineering job to start the family business with just our station wagon and a brewed trailer, it was just me, the girls, and my mom and dad. I was also the baby of the family then, and I would be for some time- 7years to be exact. And then we had Danny Patrick.. and then my baby Kelly came after another 5years- Kelly Frances Rinaldi. Kelly had become my world and I took ahold of her as if she was sent directly for me to take care of. And to this day, I’ll never love anything more than my baby Kelly..
It’s not quite clear how it all went to hell. But, it did and it did very fast. My parents by all accounts had no business having children and by today’s standards wouldn’t even have been able to have wed given today’s law, and rightfully so. Kids having kids may very well be one of the biggest tragedies of all.
It was the mid 50’s when my parents first started dating. Mike Rinaldi was the rebellious ducktail wearing lady killer who sent all the girl’s hearts aflutter. And Kristen, Kristen was the good girl who was the one girl never to be talked about in the locker-room. Or so says my dad… In fact, that’s why he asked her out in the first place he’d later confess. She was 15, and he was 17..the love every parent feared.. I say this with great jest, mind you. It’s kind of an inside joke and a well placed, fuck you of sorts. In all seriousness though, my folks were a fairytale… My mother wasn’t the average 15year old. She had to drop out of school to help her mother make ends meet, and by some god-awful circumstance, my mother was responsible for her little sister Laurel. Kristen hadn’t a life of her own until she met my dad and soon after they met, she didn’t even have a place to call her own. Later on, Kris soon moved in with my father’s family and quickly wed soon after that. Today, my mother is still embarrassed for not having much of a home life as a kid, and it pains her to this day. There are certain ‘sins of the father’ one can never escape and its definitely true here. A lesson we’ll re-visit throughout this memoir, lesson, how to.. or how not to.. whatever this book is to you.. the lesson will always be this: one can never run away from one’s self. Our demons if left unresolved will lay await… and they will rise if unresolved and they will come for you.
My mom and dad were just a couple of kids..with no where to go. And by all accounts they did their best. But, it was not good enough. Nor, was it their fault.. they were just kids! Mike and Kris got married at age 19 and 17 respectively. They had no where to go so they did what they thought was best.. Looking back now, my mom should have moved to South Hampton….
Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I’m grateful to be alive. It's just that kids have no business having kids.. And a parents obligation is to ensure their child my mother's life should have been lived... My dad should
CHAPTER 1.
CHAPTER 2.
CHAPTER 3.
CHAPTER 4.
CHAPTER 5.
CHAPTER 6.
CHAPTER 7.
CHAPTER 8.
CHAPTER 9.
CHAPTER 10.
CHAPTER 11.
CHAPTER 12.
CHAPTER 13.
CHAPTER 14.
CHAPTER 15.
CHAPTER 16.
CHAPTER 17.
CHAPTER 18.
CHAPTER 19.
CHAPTER 20.
CHAPTER 21.
CHAPTER 22.....
‘Forrest once said that nothin’ could kill us, and we could never die. Back then I actually believed it, hell I know Forrest did, Because no matter what this world flung at him, he seemed to be able to just stand up, and keep on going. Gettin’ a little more bent, a little more twisted each time. But nobody leaves this world alive.’
LAWLESS.
I probably have no business writing this.. at least, not like this. It’s actually quite ludicrous if you were to really think about it. And if I was to be totally honest, who’s to say I’d even be alive to see it through. It’s not that I have any plans of an imminent departure or anything that foolish. However, one may argue that I have a certain predisposition to death and things have ben known to take a turn quite quickly... You see, life hasn’t always been kind to me, but up until late I’ve always made good out of whatever came my way. There have also been many times that I actually thought myself to be indestructible- after all, no one fares as well as I. To say I’m a survivor would be quite the understatement. I’ve not only have I survived but I’ve flourished. Essentially I've survived where most do not, and that forever remains in the back of my head like a constant pulsing. I'm talking about a year or two.. or three.
During my freshman year of school, I was assaulted by a priest at school. Now, back in the day, priests who were predisposed to like boys didn't have that many options. Many joined the church and hid in public, and still others joined the priesthood to teach. The Jesuits
We could dive into my adolescence and my overtly offensive neighbor, or the Regis University Priests who had the propensity for the so-called 'cutest' in-coming freshman.. but we can delve into that later. No, this is the certainty no one should know. But, I do. After abuse at my school, I had b XXXXXXXXXXX
During my freshman year of school, I was assaulted by a priest at school. Now, back in the day, priests who were predisposed to like boys didn't have that many options. Many joined the church and hid in public, and still others joined the priesthood to teach. The Jesuits
We could dive into my adolescence and my overtly offensive neighbor, or the Regis University Priests who had the propensity for the so-called 'cutest' in-coming freshman.. but we can delve into that later. No, this is the certainty no one should know. But, I do. After abuse at my school, I had b XXXXXXXXXXX
I was born into a rather prominent New England family who rose from humble very humble beginnings into being one of New England’s largest trucking company families. We were garbage men, I’m proud to say. Now, I know what you are thinking, and yes. Yes, yes we were!
The week my father launched our business, Minuteman Trucking Co. in 1973, two of his Mack trucks were set ablaze along with a half dozen or so dumpsters. Without any foreseen upset, or even the makings of a bead of sweat, my father simply went out to inspect the torched equipment, looked them up and down, and made his way back into his office that smelled like a merging of oil, grease, and gas and proceeded to pick up his standby rotary phone and dialed.
The gentleman at the other end of the phone was- let’s say Uncle Sal. Sal was the sharp dressed man you thought of in that one particular song.. He was the classiest, smoothest, and kindest man you’d ever know whom all the young family children gravitated to. It’s no wonder why he was my favorite uncle. That and I’d often spend summers with them. Those were some of my happiest times! Later on as I grew older, I’d come to find out more and more details that made hime even more of a hero. There’s a lot to say about living with honor, and justice! To me this man was just my lovable Uncle Sal who always wore a custom fitting Hart Shaffner Marx and always smelled of a clean shave. And and and.. he always had a matchbox car in his left coat pocket for me! You see, my mom grew up with them too, and I followed in her footsteps. They loved her and me as if I was there own, and I loved them equally! Uncle Sal, also had a daughter who’s my second cousin and is just 6moths older than I. So, I guess, I lucked out- I know I lucked out!
As my dad made the call, he quickly was forwarded to my Uncle Sal. Soon after nothing more than a, ‘No I don’t know,’ and a ‘Yes, they were parked at the garage,’ and ‘No they didn’t. Yes…. Yes. Ok, Thank You.’ The call seemed to have ended just as quickly as it had begun as my dad abruptly hung up his black rotary phone…
A little while later, after my dad, the girls, my mom and I ate dinner, my dad grabbed me! In one fall swoop, he just scooped me up along side his coffee cup without spilling a drop. My dad said to my mother that we’d both be back shortly. I didn’t believe him because we took that ride many many times, but I guess I didn’t give it much thought.. I loved being with my dad. We were too… back shortly. We drove the three hours to the New York State line, and my dad exited the vehicle. I was half asleep when things ‘went-down’ but looking back I seem to recall being disappointed. I certainly wasn’t aware of the cash in the ‘paper-bag..’ I was anticipating a reward of some sorts on the way…. Not on the way back! You see, my dad was always doing things for us, and whenever we stopped we’d always get something.. and to tell you the truth.. I was probably a little bit spoiled. So, when we stopped and I didn’t get at least a milk-shake, I sulked.. It was short lived however because… yup. Within a few minutes my dad once again scooped me up from inside his GMC Jimmy and we were having banana splits at a Friendly’s restaurant..
From then on there we built our business up and bigger than all our competitors combined. At the beginning, when my dad quit his engineering job to start the family business with just our station wagon and a brewed trailer, it was just me, the girls, and my mom and dad. I was also the baby of the family then, and I would be for some time- 7years to be exact. And then we had Danny Patrick.. and then my baby Kelly came after another 5years- Kelly Frances Rinaldi. Kelly had become my world and I took ahold of her as if she was sent directly for me to take care of. And to this day, I’ll never love anything more than my baby Kelly..
It’s not quite clear how it all went to hell. But, it did and it did very fast. My parents by all accounts had no business having children and by today’s standards wouldn’t even have been able to have wed given today’s law, and rightfully so. Kids having kids may very well be one of the biggest tragedies of all.
It was the mid 50’s when my parents first started dating. Mike Rinaldi was the rebellious ducktail wearing lady killer who sent all the girl’s hearts aflutter. And Kristen, Kristen was the good girl who was the one girl never to be talked about in the locker-room. Or so says my dad… In fact, that’s why he asked her out in the first place he’d later confess. She was 15, and he was 17..the love every parent feared.. I say this with great jest, mind you. It’s kind of an inside joke and a well placed, fuck you of sorts. In all seriousness though, my folks were a fairytale… My mother wasn’t the average 15year old. She had to drop out of school to help her mother make ends meet, and by some god-awful circumstance, my mother was responsible for her little sister Laurel. Kristen hadn’t a life of her own until she met my dad and soon after they met, she didn’t even have a place to call her own. Later on, Kris soon moved in with my father’s family and quickly wed soon after that. Today, my mother is still embarrassed for not having much of a home life as a kid, and it pains her to this day. There are certain ‘sins of the father’ one can never escape and its definitely true here. A lesson we’ll re-visit throughout this memoir, lesson, how to.. or how not to.. whatever this book is to you.. the lesson will always be this: one can never run away from one’s self. Our demons if left unresolved will lay await… and they will rise if unresolved and they will come for you.
My mom and dad were just a couple of kids..with no where to go. And by all accounts they did their best. But, it was not good enough. Nor, was it their fault.. they were just kids! Mike and Kris got married at age 19 and 17 respectively. They had no where to go so they did what they thought was best.. Looking back now, my mom should have moved to South Hampton….
Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents and I’m grateful to be alive. It's just that kids have no business having kids.. And a parents obligation is to ensure their child my mother's life should have been lived... My dad should
I have to admit, I am not like most people. I see so much more that the next guy…. I see what could be, what should be, and I revel in in glimmer of hope that is affirmed through each act of kindness, in goodness, and by those who seem to understand this.
I’m no better, nor no worse.. I want to believe that- really I do. But, unfortunately I cannot. I am better and I believe this solely based on the fact that I believe in humanity and I also believe in evil. I’ve seen it actually many times and by those I’ve trusted, and even by those I’ve loved. That in itself is painful to think about, let alone write about it. Those closest to us make us the most vulnerable, so it seems to make sense, well it makes sense to me. We’ve all heard the phrase beware of wolves in sheep clothing, right. Well, this story is just that. It’s about the good and the bad and it’s not always so clearly seen let alone able to be identified.
What makes us good and what makes us bad is all dependent on which we are raised.
It sets us apart based on our ability to handle adversity, and that quality is essentially based on our experiences. I would like to think That is what sets us apart form one another. Honestly, it seems there are many ways to distinguish and self distinguish form each other. We can let others define us or ourselves.. and hence the trouble begins. What sets us apart is based on our own scale, yet we are often characterized
I’ve tried writing this several, several times. And I probably should do the whole outline things and brush up on how to write a memoir.. But, this isn’t intended to be a memoir. It is however intended to be a manual of sorts. To behest the labeling is one thing I’m not comfortable with- this you’ll come to understand. But, the concept of my writing a memoir seems.. well, it seems a little arrogant. And self serving. We see this one writing about that, and that one writing about this.. To be honest, most memoirs are in fact self serving and we should take a bit offense. I mean really! How can you write about Superman taking your virginity and then be upset for welcoming you to his neighborhood.. To write a memoir suggests to me that you should find my story interesting enough for you to actually purchase.. That in some way I have mastered the art of living and I should be a beacon in which you should live. Well, neither is true. This ‘how to’ story before you is an extension of what I claim to represent. And seeing that I have been grossly misjudged and misunderstood I feel almost compelled to set the record straight.
Yes, I came between her and her Calvins.. All in good time….
But, this story.. we’ll say story instead of a memoir because it sounds more humane.. and to tell you the truth my ego doesn’t need any more stroking.. I’ll dive right in. I’m just a guy trying to write a wrong that had been done to me as a kid. Having survived where most have not I not only feel compelled to share my story, but I feel obligated to. If I am as I quite often refer myself to a child advocate, well this seems to be the next necessary step to be what I claim.
To write a memoir
The scene opens up with a young man sitting in his living room with a close shot of him in his chair.. You can see by his surroundings that he lives in a beautiful home- strewn with modern furniture and form the likes of it several well known artists adorn his walls. As the camera closes in on him seated in a linear looking black leather chair and ottoman, it closes in on his face and focus on tears in his eyes as one tear slowly rolls down his chin past his face and falls below…
All of a sudden there’s a flash of memories that quickly flash upon the screen…. Childhood, family, friends, heroes, the life he has lived.. and all of a sudden it clears back to reality and the man sitting in the chair.. it fades off into one of the many pop artists’ work upon the wall.. and you see a face- it could very well be the most beautiful face the world had ever seen..
Cut to a small boy sitting on his front steps of a more modest home…. It's a little cooler than one would expect- especially seeing that this boy is only 4 years old. He’s a beautiful child with a big round face and light memorizing eyes.. he’s both darken complexion and hair coloring. What stands out the most is his sweater. It’s actually on upside down and he’s more than unsheveled- he’s unkempt. The little guy doesn’t seem to mind and there he sits.. sweater upside down with only one button… singing to himself in a most precious child’s voice. He must have a great love for music because the song he’s singing isn’t a child’s song at all, but it’s a top 40 hit for the time.. it is B.J. Thomas’ ‘Raind Drops Keep Falling on Head.’ It’s sad really…. Who would have known at just 4years of age, this song would describe this young child’s life, follow him throughout his youth, and once again break him as an adult.. Who would have thought? Who could’ve known.
Johnny was the 3rd child to the child bride Kristen and city-slicker Mike. Mike and Kristen were married in the early 60’s in a small manufacturing town just outside of Ithaca, NY. The town’s only source of income were from the several manufacturing plants, a now defunct truck manufacture, a tennis racket maker and a few mom and pop stores.. There was also a state school located in this small rural community that seemed to segregate the town. Although it was a state school, the ‘townie’s’ seemed to still resent the many ‘city’ kids and their enrollees. Again, it was a state school but the to this small upstate NY town, any Schoo would be resented. It wasn’t the school’s rating, it was the fact that the school offered what the locals could never have, a way out.
Mikey was the town stud and he walked around with a certain arrogance and flair that made everyone stop and take notice.. It was the mid 50’s so what we all know from the 1978 John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John film the film was almost lifelike.. Mikey was definitely the Danny Zucho, complete with the jet black hair and even the ducktail.. By all accounts my dad was the most handsome- he couldn’t have been any better looking let’s just say that. My mom, oh my god! I look at my mom now and I still cannot believe how beautiful she is.. She too had dark brown hair and the most beautiful green eyes you had ever seen. Back in 1959, my mother was just 15., and by 17 she’d be wed. A child-bride by every sense of the world to an even bigger child, my dad at age 19.
Kids having kids, and what’s worse is that these kids had no where to go. At least my mother hadn’t.
INTRODUCTION.
Where to begin…. It's a matter of just sitting down and writing form my soul. But it’s also determined on my state of mind given the exact day.. One would say its definitely not predetermined. So, sit back, this will be a read like no other.
I’m just a guy, named John. I’m sure you’ve heard of me… But, we can get to all that a bit later on as we go.. Let’s just say, I’m the guy who has done what an entire generation had wished they could do…. I, came between her and her Calvin’s. (laughing a bit maniacal to myself. Not in a Jeffrey Dahmer type way, but more in a fuck you type way…) We can leave it there for now. But, don’t let me forget because it gets better than that- a lot better.
It’s been quite difficult to say the least. And I have struggled with this for months now- if not years. The greatest problem as of late has been in my ever consuming grief. You add that with years worth of anguish.. I honestly cannot believe I’m still standing. You see, I have lost all that matters and I don’t see any other way out. I write what you see before you with a lot of grief because of two things in particular. One, I’m angry beyond words and cannot fathom the idea of somehow benefiting from said loss, and two, should this go where it most inevitably will any success will be received with utter contempt.
Why should you have purchased it then, you say? Or are asking yourself quietly while reading.. Well, it’s not meant to be sold for profit. Although I would expect we would then be able to do extraordinary things as a result. It’s been written for the soul purpose that had I not written it, I fear I would do you all a grave disservice. And had I not shared my experiences it’d probably be the most selfish thing I could do. I honesty believe many people can not only relate from from my experiences, but can learn from them as well.
You see, I’m not like most people who wished to self attain. I wasn’t bred to just be someone who’s biggest concern was which prep schools to send my 3 kids to, or where to build the second, third, or fourth home. Am I reaching? No. We came from money and it was my father who taught me what to believe in- me. It’d probably make for a better story to be poor and live on some farm without running water or suggest or flat our write in that we didn’t have any shoes but we did. We had it all.. and we let it all go.. This is where you all should perk up. This is a story about loss, heart-break, trauma, abuse and how one action can have a rippling affect that can and will last for generations.
But, before we do. Let me just say, I hate Angelica Gregory and she’s a self serving criminal. There I said it and I’m protected by the first amendment. (we’ll get into all that.. but fuck Angelica…. This isn’t about her or anyone else. It’s about me. I’ve never thought of myself first in my entire 50 years and it stops here and now.
Welcome to me. You can call me John. But, if you are lucky enough to know my sister Kelly, I’d prefer brother. Brother. Brother has always been my most cherished title and it best describes me- my heart. My first love was Kelly. And I’ve never loved anyone more. Not Eileen, not Steve, not anyone. I’m Kelly’s big brother. Hence, Brother. So, I guess even if you don't know Kelly (your loss..) it’s cool with me if you still call me brother.
CHAPTER 1.
JOHNNY age 4. Binghampton, NY.
For what it’s worth, my first memory was of me singing like some sad little boy. Looking back now, I don't know what I was thinking.. I mean like who was attending to me, and why was I outside? Or, who were my friends? Did I even have any? I guess I was just another 4 year old boy who’s wasn't old enough to put on a sweater correctly. Believe me, at that age that was probably my only issue- I did say I was 4! Who cared anyway! I certainly didn’t . I didn’t mind it one bit. And so I’d remain.. on the front steps signing B.J. Thomas’ ‘Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head’ until it was time for dinner.
My sister Kolleen- my sister Kolleen. Even as I write it now, I’m in a state of panic with a bead of sweat forming over my brow…a——aand sliding down my neck.. and yup…. straight down my back.. God damnit! Now, everything’s all sweaty. Enough! Enough!! I HATE my sister Kolleen. There I said it! Now, I’m not going to keep teasing you throughout this book and asking you politely to wait here and there.. for now. But, I probably will. You see, (she) is pivotal to all this and ‘she’ will require a longer explanation- longer than I’m willing to dedicate to her right now. Let me just say…. (I dare repeat..). My. (ahummmm… as I clear my throat). My. My sister Kolleen. (there, I did it.. it was kind of like ripping off a band aid..). My sister Kolleen. See, you need to practice a bit so she’s not that scary.. My sister Kolleen is sooooooo beautiful. She has golden white blond hair.. Her nails are so very lovely.. AND SHE’s MEAN AS FUCK.
That’s it.. for now.
Kolleen used to take such pleasure in hurting me, so I didn't expect she’d look beyond her ‘so pretty’ self to think twice about helping me.. but, my bigger sister Kathy, I thought for sure she would have. She didn’t. Now, I know what you are thinking.. and no! it’s not a reference to anything other than her being the oldest. We wouldn’t make a joke like that…. Well, not so anyone could hear us! Yup, that;s us! The ever-loving, always picking Rinaldi’s. You may have heard about us. You know, the trucking company Rinaldi’s. Yeah, that’s us- those Rinaldi’s.
We are an Italian/ Irish family who struggled to become one of New England’s premier trucking company families. To the outside world everyone loved us, and why wouldn’t they? We were everyone’s good neighbor, Varsity heroes, and without doubt- best looking. Kolleen was even voted it, and I held a title myself. (Of course, that’s because they didn't see the evil that lay below…Kolleen- not me, you fool)…. Us Rinaldi’s were not all inclusive to just our five siblings… we were refuge to all.. and even adopted in, so-to-speak many more. So, if anyone were to tell me we’d soon become the town’s most infamous family to spiral out of control, I’d have not believed it.
And then there was one….
Let me start again. Hi, I’m brother. If you don’t know me as brother than you didn't know my baby sister, Kelly. I was her brother, and in turn became brother to those closest to her. To date, it's my most prized title. And I wear it just as proud as my friend Ray wears his. (Yes, that Ray too.). I sit hear as I speak to you, brother no more. It’s probably why we hadn't met sooner. You see, I’m sure you have actually met me before, you just didn’t know me as you do now. We can get into all that as this- my story unfolds. But, let me finish…. (it may be the blow to my head, or the PTSD, or Brooke…. ye-e-e-es, that Brooke too… again, let me finish.. my lack of concentration.. or my inability to stay focused is my only real loss, Kelly.
You see, I cannot even bring myself to think her name. Kelly. K E L L Y. Kelly. KELLLLY My baby sister is dead…………
And I most certainly don’t care about anything else- certainly not me, and most certainly not the girl my horrible sister claimed I liked as a 14 year old boy, mind you.. because she looked like a man.
I lied. No, not that. Brooke does. I lied about not caring. I care very much…. Anthony and Rowan, my beautiful babies! They are all I have left..
In fact, this is dedicated to Kelly, my world.
CHAPTER 1.
Kelly.
Of course this has to start with Kelly. Remember, I started the introduction with my first memory being an upside- down worn sweater? Well, that was my first memory. But, it's not where I truly begin. I was the youngest for awhile. And when I was the bay of the family my two mean sisters- imagine the two step sisters from Snow White.. no Cinderella. I know, it’s a chick reference but it’s the only reference I know to place blame on my two horrible sisters…
You were also fairly warned of my constant roaming off point…. 2 words. 1. Brain. 2. Damage.
INTRODUCTION
I’m John Rinaldi and by all accounts this memoir you see before you really isn’t intended to be as such. Instead, I’m hoping it’s more of a: how to kinda book. A ‘Things We know Now We Wished We Learned Then’ kinda thing. It has all the makings of a great modern day tragedy but to be a memoir- or called a memoir seems a little too arrogant in my opinion. I mean it is, and all that but it’s not meant to be self serving- although it will do that just fine….
In my 50 years- I’m sorry! Just writing that throws me off a bit. In fact I may have just thrown up in my mouth a bit.… Don’t get me wrong, I know I am 50 because I was born in 1966. And every year I’m reminded of my very age by the Super Bowl. Yes, the Super Bowl is exactly my age…. 50! But, I don't feel 50. I don’t feel 50 because I’ve missed so much and honestly I haven’t been as present as I should have been. Tragedy and horrific loss will do that, you know. Sadly, no one should know the loss and despair I’ve seen. That said, if you ask me what I’ve accomplished in these 50 years I would say a lot. But, I guess that would all depend on who’s doing the evaluating. By humanity standards, there aren’t that many people who can say they’ve done more. So, in that sense I’m very proud. On a societal view point, I may have fallen short.
You know the term the road to hell was paved with good intentions? Well, that’s me. Unfortunately we all live in a world where other people are present and in order to succeed- really succeed you must play the game and cater to all those involved. Wouldn’t you agree? That is the almighty lesson- to play well with others. But, I’m getting off topic- which you will find happens…. quite a lot. Hopefully, it’s part of my charm and hopefully you can get past my lack of all things proper and follow along with me. Feel free to drop me a not as you go to. An e-mail will be provided for you here: xxxxxxx, and social media is always fun. After all, this was written for you more so than me.
This brings me to why you should be reading this in the first place. It’s not to give me credibility with my East Hampton peers, although it will help quite a bit probably. And that will probably give me the credit I’ve been so far lacking…. But it isn’t success that I’ve been in search of. I’ve had that many lifetimes over. Now, pay close attention, this is where it gets good….
In my 50 years, I’ve stood on the sidelines. At first I was sidelined from the in-crowd- my crowd because of a certain impropriety. And as I grew I learned early on what was important and what wasn’t. Having learned early on what most people never quite grasp led me to my own path. Having learned such a valuable lesson I chose to remain on the sidelines because I had at that point nothing to prove. I would later come to realize that that was ego based- which in turn would later build to bite me in the ass.. But, that we’ll get to later.. Or one could then say if I hadn’t fallen as I had I would not be before you now. And so the game of life’s volleys us back and forth. All I know is that in these 50 years the only thing I would do differently is to keep better hold of Kelly. Kelly by all accounts is my heart and she is my soul.. And I let her just slip right through my hands as if I was somehow standing alone on a beach and she was the sand in my hands…. She just poured through my fingers and I was powerless to stop it. I couldn't save her.. How can anyone be expected to live having not protected the one you love the most? Tell me, please.
I actually didn’t write this to redeem myself, nor did I write this explain myself. Had I done so, I’d have done you and myself a great dishonor. This goes against everything I believe actually. There is never any agenda, again I should learn or re-think that.. but for now its all form my broken heart. It’s simple. ‘I’ve learned early on in my life more things that most people never can even grasp, let alone learn. And having learned all that I have how could I not do all that I am.’ It’s intended to read just like it is.. It’s part of my charm and it’s also my philosophy. I’ll be more simplistic. This read before you is for you- not me. I’ve learned life’s lessons- the important ones that is, and I feel obliges to share them with you in the hopes of sparing you heartache. It’s meant to be noble and has been written to reach as many of you as possible. Again, I understand that in reaching all of you as intended I will undoubtedly receive a certain level of success. But, to me success isn’t measured as one would expect, and if you too lose the one you love the most maybe then you’ll understand. Do you?
This you will find throughout the book. I’m quite indecisiveness and I do get off subject quite often. (I think I referred to it above..). I’m not sure if it’s because I got hit by a Volkswagen or not, and the brain injury I sustained leaves me impaired. Or I just could be that elusive. All I do know is that I’m plagued with a thing called survivor’s guilt and it can be crippling. So, although I’m a success in my own right, I have far to go..
Once again I didn’t write this book to marvel at my accomplishments nor did I write this to play on your sympathy. I wrote this because most people will not survive as I have. Actually, most who have experienced what I have don’t survive…. In fact, we just buried our 3rd.. What happened to us should never happen again and hopefully this will help achieve that. What kind of humanitarian would I be to just sit quietly?
We started with 5 Italian/Irish kids and as fate would have it, we are now down to just one-me. Just me and my mom. I’m no momma’s boy, so let’s just make that clear right now. And that’s not what this story is about anyway. It’s about a nice Italian/Irish family that should have had all the world at our feet and for the most part we did. We had money, we had the private schools, and we had all that we needed- accept a proper family. You see, it’s not that we were raised with too little or too much it’s the fact that we never should have been here in the first place. You see, my parents were just kids themselves and never learned how to be. They only knew how to survive.. And their world came crumbling world and therefore so did ours. It’s a lesson I still have to learn and still have trouble grasping. In order to truly stand tall, one must first be planted firmly…. I can make another more trite analogy but I think you get my point. And as for my folks, well my dad’s gone and my mother is too old to change Im afraid.
John
My name is John- most of you have heard of me, but you probably hadn’t realized that I’m that guy. Yes, I’m the guy who came between her Calvin’s. It’s a funny story actually.. One I’m sure you’ll find enjoyable. But, as with all things we can wait to explore that all later. And trust me, I will get into it into far greater detail.. It’s just not a good time right now, and believe it or not.. it’s not high on my priority list. You see, what all has happened as a result of a hyper vigilant starlet has cost me my greatest gift- that my friends is my greatest tragedy. And I do have a long list of tragedies under my belt. It’s just Brooke Shields is not worth a seat at this table- this meaning the introduction.
I’m the 3rd of 5 Italian/Irish children born to Michael and Kristen. This is set as a memoir
Mike and Kris
They in themselves had no business having children and by all accounts would not be able to wed given today’s law. And rightfully so! Kids having kids may very well be this stories biggest tragedy of all. Two kids- Johnny and Sandy if you were to put a Grease spin on it.. Mike- the rebellious ducktail wearing lady killer, and Kristen (with an ‘e’) the good girl who didn’t have a home of her own.. and married my dad because…. My mom says that it’s because she didn’t have anywhere else to go, but it’s because my dad was.. my dad was ‘Mike Rinaldi.’ She should have moved to South Hampton….
My parents were just kids and should’ve have lived first- talk about running before learning to walk! We grew up in Acton, MA which is about a half hour from Boston- straight across on route 2, actually. We ran a very successful trucking company called Minuteman Trucking and were actually the largest rubbish removal company in New England- I did say I was Italian, right! In any case
“” on in life when it was just he and I in the living room of our summer house in Skineateles, NY. We would talk for hours and hours and I finally was able to make my peace with this man, or so I thought..””
Kelly
these 50 years the only thing I would do differently is to keep ahold of Kelly.
Kelly is my life. She’s my heart and my soul and this world is too cruel to be without her. In many ways this leads me to the next battle. You see I’ve chosen this path and fame and fortune was never part of the equation. But, I didn't realize my role, nor my obligation and not having the where-with-all, it’s cost me dearly. In fact, it almost cost me my life- many, many, many times. And so the volley goes again.. back and forth and back and forth. How will I go on without my baby sister?
CONCLUSION.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
Writing this book has been long coming, to say the least. Each entry has been met with great hesitation and has been received with great angst. To be honest, up until now, memoirs in my opinion seemed to be a self-serving ego driven effort to earn a buck. And by many who seem to actually have great disdain for their actual readers/fans. That to me is the ultimate hypocrisy, and I take great offense. I mean seriously, 'How the hell can you complain about adoration when it that you crave...
It brings me back to my acting days. At first I found it exciting.. and I couldn't separate the excitement of my youth from the realities right in front of me. A few years back, I ran across some pages of a would be diary.. one entry that stood out was of my working at Sunset Gower Studios in LA. I'm not sure which show I had been cast.. I think it was 'Saved By The Bell.' Yes, yes it was actually. I'm reading this page from sometime back in 1991, and as I was re-reading the entry, I was surprised to read Kevin Costner. I had met Mr. Costner that day in between shootings and I simply forgot. How does one forget meeting Kevin Costner? Well, I had also forgot that I had walked Ella Fitzgerald across the stage... I came to LA to become the next Tom Cruise, but when I spent 3 months working on 'A Few Good Men' I realized that fame and fortune wasn't what I was seeking... I had become an actor because I had a lot to say, and I wanted to be heard.
Abuse awareness and understanding was....
It brings me back to my acting days. At first I found it exciting.. and I couldn't separate the excitement of my youth from the realities right in front of me. A few years back, I ran across some pages of a would be diary.. one entry that stood out was of my working at Sunset Gower Studios in LA. I'm not sure which show I had been cast.. I think it was 'Saved By The Bell.' Yes, yes it was actually. I'm reading this page from sometime back in 1991, and as I was re-reading the entry, I was surprised to read Kevin Costner. I had met Mr. Costner that day in between shootings and I simply forgot. How does one forget meeting Kevin Costner? Well, I had also forgot that I had walked Ella Fitzgerald across the stage... I came to LA to become the next Tom Cruise, but when I spent 3 months working on 'A Few Good Men' I realized that fame and fortune wasn't what I was seeking... I had become an actor because I had a lot to say, and I wanted to be heard.
Abuse awareness and understanding was....
But, with this memoir.. I am still hesitant to call it as such. This memoir had to be written because it goes way beyond this man of subtle means. It's for all those who were raised with fear and had a lack of support. It's for the 1 in 3 girls, and the 1 in 5 boys who were assaulted by age 18. It's for those abused by priests. It's for those who family forgot about them.. It's for anyone who looked at a celebrity and dreamt of a better life. It's for all who've lost a child.
NOTES.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR.
CREDITS.
COPYRIGHT.
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER.
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